Under the covers:
In Cinderella, no one notices the beauty behind the cinders and rags. In this case, it's glasses and dowdy clothes . . . and something more. We've all seen the makeover shows where the woman looks terrible and unsmiling and unhappy in the beginning. How much of the transformation is make-up and hair and how much is confidence? How do you get that one man to really look at you?

Feeling beautiful is hard for every woman at some time in her life, no matter what physical gifts she was born with. Most of the time I content myself with being friendly and attractive (as in the opposite of repellant!) and don't really hope for "double-take beautiful." I do the basics of hair and face and fashion and generally travel beneath the acrobatic tightrope of "perfection." It's too much work!

Sophie isn't even willing to admit what she's fighting for, not to herself or anyone else. She has been so convinced of her own plainness that the entire makeover feels like a fraud--that if she lets her façade slip for one moment, it will all be found out. You know how the tabloids love to catch Julia Roberts without her makeup on, wearily getting off a plane from Europe at 4am, and then shout that she's on crack? Imagine a world where not only are you perpetrating a fraud of being a beauty, but you're doing it with everyone who is everyone watching your every move!

Sophie's secrets are very real and she stands an excellent chance of being found out, yet she throws herself into the public eye--not to be beautiful or famous or even notorious, but hoping to finally come to the attention of the only man she's ever loved.

Now what if he's noticed her all along? What is he going to think of all that?

Excerpt:
Sophie threw out her hands. "God, Graham! When are you going to grow up? When are you going to realize that life isn't a toy-filled nursery where no one cares what you break? Is that really all there is to you--three inches of self-indulgence and arrogance?"

Graham stopped short. "Is that how you see me?"

She went mulish, her arms folded, her eyes furious. "Is there any reason I shouldn't?"

No, actually, there wasn't. A careless man-boy, thoughtless and destructive. That was precisely who he was--or at least, who he had been.

Sophie misinterpreted his silence and rolled her eyes scornfully. Only then did Graham see the dampness in them.

"Soph." He took a step toward her.

She turned away, giving him her back as she swiped a secretive hand at her eyes. "Bugger off," she snarled. "I'm going back out there to find someone who has more on his mind than money!"

"You've turned into such a lady," he teased softly. He made a grab for that hand and caught it. He tugged her around. "Sophie, don't let's be angry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She kept her face turned away. "I'm not upset. I'm just dead sick of you, that's all. No time for this, I fear. Too many more important people waiting for me outside."

He drew her chin about with tender fingers. "Here now. You've mussed your fancy doings." He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at her powdered cheeks, smoothing the lines of her tears away. "There now, all pretty again." He dropped a quick, meaningless little kiss on her lips, so close to his own.

Except...it wasn't meaningless at all.

Sophie froze at the brief touch of Graham's lips on hers. So did he. Time hung there, sweet and long, each unwilling to move away, unable to think or protest or do anything but stay.

The little room was a haven, the gathering outside growing more distant with every heartbeat, the sounds faded and misted beneath the pounding of two hearts.

When she inhaled, taking in the heat and scent of him, it was though he breathed some of his own life and vitality into her spirit. Suddenly nothing was to be feared, nothing was to be hidden. There was no one in the world but the two of them and she reveled in that isolation.

He was here and he could be hers. All she need do was reach out--

His solid pectoral muscle flexed beneath her palm and she realized she
already had.

It was all he'd needed, it seemed, for in the next instant she found herself pulled roughly into his arms, against that rock-hard chest, into the circle of his scalding sexuality.

She made no sound of protest, not even a gasp of surprise, for there was no surprise here. He was precisely as he ought to be and so was she, quivering for him, on fire for him--

Willing. Nay, eager.

It was so easy to let go it made her doubt she'd ever held on. She slid both hands up to lace them around his neck, moving slowly as if in a dream. He exhaled harshly at her voluntary embrace and she was ashamed of how much she'd held back from him. She vowed she would show him herself, in such a way he might never forget it.

She twined her fingers through his hair gently, then tightened them. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Shh." It was stunning how sure she was, how she knew just what to do. She'd never kissed him, but she knew just how to tilt her head to make their lips fit just so. She went up on tiptoe, sliding her body slowly up his hard stomach and chest, making no attempt to hide her enjoyment of the sensation.

He swallowed, hard. She felt the power surge through her, raw feminine power older than time itself. She claimed her seductress self, allowing her to well forth and play out the moment with slow, sure enticement.

He waited, his jaw tense, his eyelids heavy with unexpressed desire. He hardened against her. She smiled slightly and rotated her hips to press the softness of her lower belly into his rigidity. A rocky shudder went through him and the cords of his throat throbbed, but he kept his silence, still pinned in place by her entangled fingers in his hair.

He could have broken free, but Graham was finally in the place he'd dreamed of since...how long? Just this week...or for months?

He dared not so much as breathe too hard, although he could be panting by now if he allowed himself. She was so innocently, wickedly sensual--this was not his careful, restrained Sophie. This was the woman who had fought for him, the woman who had stood fiercely between him and Lilah's vicious insults.

Then there was no more time for memory, there was only now, for she kissed him at last.

Her lips were soft, her nipples were hard, her fingers in his hair causing him pain he would not have forgone for a thousand nights of heartless pleasure. She was the one. She had ever been the one. He'd known, in some place he'd never investigated inside himself, he'd known since the first time he'd rescued her from running into a wall.

He stood there, taking her closemouthed kiss for as long as he was able to bear it, for he savored the innocence he tasted in it. She would never kiss so again.

Then he violated that sweet virginity with the tip of his tongue, a slow careful penetration that made her stiffen in surprise.

She wasn't one to quail. No, not his Sophie. At once she was back in the joust, her own dainty tongue slipping into his lips, the soft sounds of her pleasure vibrating through his mouth.

God, so sweet, so strong, so powerful--

He couldn't get close enough to her. In two steps he had her down on the fainting couch, her willing body at last pressed completely to his. Beneath his...

Soft and pale, her breasts emerged from her bodice when he pulled the neckline. The gift of her flesh in his hands as he impaled her mouth again and again with his tongue. There were other things he would do with that tongue, things she would enjoy, things he would get to in just a moment, just as soon as he'd had enough of fitting his hands around her small, high, perfect breasts.

Oh, the things he would do to his magnificent Sophie...

Outside the alcove room, the audience broke into applause. Jarred, Graham broke the kiss.

"Oh God." Not Sophie! He was a monster. He was a rotter, through and through. "Oh, bloody hell!"